


Heaven Help Me (I Didn't See The Devil In Your Eyes)

by usernicole



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: (a pocket!louis fic of sorts), M/M, also tiiiiny bit of ziam?, devil au, i guess?, if u want?, nothing onscreen though, side narry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-14
Updated: 2013-09-28
Packaged: 2017-12-26 13:06:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/966267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/usernicole/pseuds/usernicole
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick's got a devil on his shoulder. Like, an actual one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> heyyy so this was intended to fill a prompt from the ficathon, but i quickly realized (about 2000 words in) that it didn't actually fill the prompt. at all. it'd be cool if you guys went and filled one out yourselves though!
> 
> sorry i didn't tag narry as a ship. i just hate it when i go into a ship tag and see fics where that ship isn't the main ship (*ahem* one direction fandom)
> 
> i'm so embarrassed of this silly story. it's not finished! but my embarrassment has led to it also not being beta'd or britpicked. if there are any glaring horrible errors please let me know!
> 
> (also please let it be known that most of the religion-y stuff, and even a lot of the celebrity/pop star-y stuff, isn't necessarily my view. i'm not trying to convey any sort of creed or opinion here i just wrote what i thought was funny. nothing was meant to offend!!!!! if it does let me know it's just a silly story)

“What about him?” Louis asked, pointing at an older – a much, much older – man. “He’s married. Wanna fuck him?”

Nick choked on his drink, interrupting Henry’s long rambling story that Nick had been doing his best to pay attention to. Louis wobbled where he had been perched on Nick’s shoulder, grabbing Nick’s earlobe to steady himself.

“Whoaaaaa boy, calm down, mate!” Louis’ tiny red wings fluttered as he tried to regain his balance, spiked tail twitching. “It was just a suggestion! You’re so uptight. You need to _unwind_.”

“Are you okay?” Henry asked, putting a hand on Nick’s shoulder – the one _without_ a tiny demon.

“Fine,” Nick croaked, “excuse me.” He walked quickly through the crowds of people at the party and ducked into the men’s room, where he was, thankfully, alone.

“Henry seems like a good bloke,” Louis said conversationally. “He really values your friendship. You should borrow a ton of money from him and never pay him back.”

Or, well, _sort of_ alone.

“Why would I – I don’t need – _why are you here_?” Nick sputtered, putting both hands on the sink and staring into Louis’ eyes in the mirror.

“I’m grasping at straws here!” Louis said, arms flailing dramatically. “You’re not exactly giving me anything to work with!” He topped over in his dramatics, plopping down on Nick’s shoulder. Nick groaned and put his face in his hands.

 _(Louis_ had shown up a week before, at Tescos.

“You see that baby over there?” He had said to Nick in the cereal aisle, “The cute one? I think you should take its candy.”

Nick had dropped his basket and spilled all of his groceries all over the floor. He had also screamed like a maniac, but that was neither here nor there. The baby with the lollipop started crying.

Louis was Nick’s “very own personal devil.” He was about six inches tall and had tiny scaly wings and a spiked tail. Nestled in Louis’ head of cinnamon hair were also two tiny nub horns, and that discovery was what led Nick to the conclusion that he had begun a downward spiral into insanity.

And, according to Louis, that wasn’t the only downward spiral Nick was on.

“You just need that one extra push,” Louis had said later on, back at Nick’s flat, stirring the cup of tea Nick had offered him in a fit of desperation. He used both hands as one would stir a cauldron. “It’s not so easy to get into Hell anymore. Sure, you’ve got the gay asshole thing going on, but that just doesn’t cut it anymore. We’re getting severely understaffed Down There.”

“So you’re here to, what? Tempt me?” Nick had asked, clutching his own tea like a lifeline. “I don’t _want_ to go…Down There.”

“Well you haven’t been really doing anything to convince us you want to go Up There either,” Louis replied easily, blowing ridiculously at his cup of tea. “You’re already on the way, I’m just insurance.” He clasped his hands together in front of him, smiling widely up at Nick’s distressed face. “Think of me as your conscience. Here to give you advice and steer you onto the right path. Or, well,” Louis smiled, teeth sharp, “the wrong one.”)

“Do you ever think,” Nick asked, setting Louis down onto the counter of the club’s bathroom, “that maybe I’m just a – a better person than you all anticipated?”

Louis paused, blinked up at Nick, and started laughing so hard he fell over and slid into the bowl of the sink. Nick felt his face redden.

“ _Of course not_ ,” Louis said, still laughing. “You’re just being stubborn!”

“Yes, maybe because I don’t want to spend eternity in Hell! Did you ever think that?”

Louis laughed again, clutching his stomach.

“No, Nick, the thought never occurred to me.” He burst into a tiny cloud of red smoke and reappeared on Nick’s shoulder. “It’s really not as bad as you lot think it is. Nice color scheme. Warm, tropical climate –“

“It’s _literally Hell_ ,” Nick said.

“Well, _yeah_ ,” Louis conceded, “but once you get passed that it’s alright.”

Nick sighed, pushing a hand through his hair, staring despairingly into the mirror. Louis reached over and fixed the collar of Nick’s paisley shirt. “Now,” he said, giving Nick’s shoulder a pat, “let’s go raise Hell, shall we?”

“Or we could not,” Nick said.

***

“I’m _so bored_ ,” Louis said a week later. He was dangling upside-down from Nick’s kitchen table, waving his arms and teasing Nick’s dog where she sat growling up at him. “Let’s go do something.” He sat up quickly. “Let’s go rob a bank!”

“I think you’re aiming a bit too high,” Nick said, lazily skipping through channels. “Why would I rob a bank?”

“Ooh, the Kardashians! Stop there,” Louis said, popping next to Nick on the couch. Puppy could be heard scrambling on the hardwood floors to try and run after him. “Can’t wait to meet them. Have you met them?”

“Not quite yet,” Nick answered, head resting on his hand. Two weeks of Louis literally as the devil on Nick’s shoulder and he was used to his near constant rambling. Not as used to it to make normal social interaction possible, however, which was why he was home alone channel surfing on a Friday night. “You’re ruining my life,” Nick said.

 “I’m _improving_ your life, “Louis corrected. “I’m _guiding you_.”

“The only thing you’ve been guiding is yourself into my fridge.” Nick poked Louis in the stomach, Pillsbury style.

“You don’t exactly get the good stuff Down Under, you know. I’ve got to get in all the oreos I can before I return to the mainland.”

“I’m going to start charging you rent,” Nick said, changing the channel and ignoring Louis’ squeak of protest.

“I’m doing _you_ a service!”

“You’re a nuisance.” Nick sighed, throwing his legs up onto the couch and nearly knocking Louis off. Louis scrambled onto the arm of the couch and crossed his arms over his chest haughtily. Nick laughed and nudged him with a toe.

Louis huffed and flipped his hair. Over time he had lost the sharp quiff-and-suit combo of his arrival and started popping up in track pants and oversized t-shirts. Nick supposed he couldn’t fault the guy making himself comfortable, but seriously the cuteness scale was off the chain. It was inappropriate, is what it was.

Nick felt a soft pattering of feet down his legs and saw Louis steadily making his way down to Nick’s torso.

“And what do you think you’re doing?” Nick asked, snickering as Louis wobbled and almost fell off of Nick’s knee.

“I’m taking control of the television. You obviously don’t know what you’re doing.”

“I’d like to see you try.” Nick laughed as Louis paused, standing on Nick’s sternum. Louis’ hair was all over the place, fluffy and soft looking. From this close Nick could almost identify Louis’ tattoos, even the tiny lines and curves of his chest piece. Louis stomped over to Nick’s face, small blue eyes staring directly into Nick’s. He was gorgeous, small as he was, and Nick spared a moment to imagine this scenario if Louis was human-sized. Nick thought if that were the case it wouldn’t be so hard for Louis to get him into Hell.

“I can make myself bigger, you know,” Louis said, as though reading Nick’s mind. Nick really, really hoped Louis couldn’t actually read minds.

“Then why don’t you?” Nick asked, poking a finger at Louis’ chest.

Louis pushed the finger away and crossed his arms. “You’re not worth it,” he huffed, turning his nose up. Nick laughed and dropped the remote control on his chest for Louis to navigate. Louis put Keeping Up With The Kardashians back on and sighed happily, sitting cross-legged on Nick’s chest. It was a little weird, but Nick was comfortable and a little sleepy so he decided to just deal with it. Puppy jumped up onto the couch and made herself comfortable on top of Nick’s legs, glaring at Louis. On the screen, Scott Disick threw a tantrum at a dinner party.

“Go make popcorn, peon,” Louis demanded, eyes not leaving the screen.

“Go fuck yourself, demon,” Nick muttered, dozing off.

“That’s the spirit!” Louis cackled, patting Nick’s chest. Nick tried to fight his smile, but found he couldn’t.

***

Surprisingly, the first time Louis comes along with Nick to work is a month after Nick meets him.

“Thought it would be boring,” Louis said when Nick brought this to his attention. “You just sit around and talk. I have to deal with that when you’re _not_ at work. I need to get away from you every once in a while.”

“You need to get away from me _all the time_.”

“Whatever,” Louis said, waving a hand dismissively, “just tell me who these people are.”

Louis ended up, surprisingly, enjoying his time at work with Nick. Something Nick didn’t exactly appreciate, because it most likely meant that Louis would be following him to work more often.

“Do you see?” Louis gestured proudly to where Matt sat smirking behind his computer. Louis had, unsurprisingly, fallen in love with Showbot. “Why can’t you just… _let loose_ like that guy? He’s really going for it. He’s _definitely_ one of ours.”

“Please don’t tell me which of my friends is condemned to eternal damnation,” Nick said aloud, prompting several weird looks from Ian and Fiona.

“At least you won’t be lonely!” Louis said, and laughed as Showbot (Matt) said something about Justin Bieber and her “USB port.” Nick dropped his head in his hands.

“Oof,” Showbot said.

***

“Frank Sinatra.”

“Nope, not ours.”

“Kurt Cobain.”

“What do you think?”

“…Biggie?”

“You’d probably think, but no.”

“Tupac.”

“Nope, he’s Upstairs.”

“Margaret Thatcher.”

“I had tea with her a couple months back.”

“John Lennon.”

“He’s a right arsehole when you meet him in person.”

“Freddie Mercury.”

“I tell you, they take all the good music for themselves, the bastards.”

“...Justin Bieber?”

“What was it I just said about the good musicians?”

“Oh thank God.”

“Literally!”

***

“I’ll have you know,” Nick said, putting his bag down as he walked into his flat after work, “that I donated to three different charities today. As well as made a point to hold the elevator door for the weird intern that smells like cheese.” He puffed his chest out, posing like a superhero in the hallway of his flat.

“You also made fun of the cheese intern on the air and bought yourself a pair of shoes for more money than you donated to charity. I do keep tabs on you, you know.” Louis popped in front of Nick’s face, causing him to flinch back. He patted Nick’s nose, tiny wings fluttering. “You’re going to have to try harder than that.”

***

“Gordon Ramsay.”

“You know, I’m not exactly sure…”

***

“You’d think,” Louis said sleepily, “living in Hell and all, that I would be tired of heat and warmth in general.”

Nick and Louis were laid out at the park near Nick’s house, splayed out in the sunshine. Louis was laying on Puppy’s exposed belly. Nick didn’t really understand their relationship, but the dog didn’t seem to want to eat the tiny devil that day, so he guessed it didn’t really matter.

Nick just hummed in response, dozing lightly and not really listening to what Louis was saying. He was getting better at that. For a few seconds after there was blessed silence as Nick basked in the sun, giving himself over to the orange glow behind his eyelids. Maybe if Louis shut up more often, this whole situation wouldn’t –

“High Ho Silver, _Away_!” He heard Louis shout, and opened his eyes to see his dog running full speed at a group of cyclists, Louis straddling her back like a professional jockey. By the end of the day, Nick had barely avoided several lawsuits, scraped nearly all the skin off his knees, had to fish Puppy out of the park’s pond (AGAIN), and rescinded any and all positive thought he’d had for the little devil on his shoulder.

***

“Aw, come on, Grimshaw, I was just doing my job.”

“…”

“Nick, you’re being ridiculous.”

“…”

“Do you have any more celebrities you want to know about?”

“…”

“What about Beyoncé? I’m pretty sure she’s going Up. But you never really know with those Illuminati folks.”

“…”

“…Nick?”

“…So the Illuminati is real then?”

***

All it took for Nick to accept his Fate was Harry Styles walking into his studio one morning.

“Hiya!” he said brightly, voice significantly deeper than Nick had expected, holding out a hand. His hands were large, and his wrists were littered with tiny tattoos. He had a lot of tattoos, spread all the way up and into the sleeves of his t-shirt and peeking out from under his collar. He had a strong jaw, and wide, trusting eyes. His hair was curlier than anything. Nick was _going to_ _Hell_.

“Harry Styles,” Harry continued, unnecessarily. “I’m a _huge_ fan.” Nick cleared his throat and put on his most charming smile.

“Thanks, mate. I like you already.” _Going to Hell_. “I’m Grimmy, but you can call me Nick.”

***

“Is this what you were talking about? When you said I’m already guaranteed? Did you set this up? Is Harry Styles some sort of golem you’ve sent to ruin my good name?” Nick eyed Harry, strumming a guitar in the Live Lounge. “If he was, I can’t guarantee I would mind.”

Harry was there to promote his first single _Don’t Let Me Go_ , a cheesy little ballad that would be highly forgettable if it weren’t for the boy’s amazing voice. Harry threw his head back and got _really_ into it, exposing the long line of his neck. Nick wanted to _ruin_ him.

Louis, surprisingly, was unsmiling.

“No,” he said, frowning, “I don’t think he’s it.”

“What, and robbing a bank is?” Harry spotted Nick through the window into the studio and grinned, still singing.

“I _don’t know_ , Nicholas. I just don’t think he’s the thing that’s going to push you into the Pit.” Louis was being snappier than usual. Nick frowned.

“Well what is then?” The song finished, and Harry, impossibly, grinned wider. He waved at Nick through the window and gestured to say he was going to go back in. They shot the shit for a little, doing a little more promo for Harry’s song and his upcoming album. Louis, despite behaving through all the other shows he’d sat through and only occasionally making a comment and laughing uproariously at Showbot, did his best to distract Nick through the whole interview, fluttering in Nick’s face while making silly faces and tugging at Harry’s curls. Nick gritted his teeth and dealt with it, praying Louis would get bored. A few minutes later and Nick was finally, blessedly, able to play a Disclosure song. Dealing with pop stars and Louis at the same time was a struggle, and even Harry had begun to notice Nick’s growing annoyance.

Louis was hovering just above Harry’s head, dancing to the song and giving Nick the finger simultaneously. He managed to incorporate the action into his dance routine. Harry was fidgeting in his chair, spinning it back and forth and biting his lip ( _god, his lips)._ It was uncomfortably quiet in the room, the rest of Nick’s crew having stepped out to take care of other things. Louis did a backflip in the air and finished it by using _both_ hands to give the one finger salute.

“So, Harry,” Nick began, leaning forward, “d’you have any other promo lined up for today?”

“No,” Harry said, stilling his chair, “I’ve got an interview tomorrow, but until then I’m free.”

“I was thinking maybe you could stay a little longer and do Showquizness with us, since you’re a fan and all,” Nick said, throwing a look to where Louis had stopped dancing. “I think your fans would really appreciate it.” Louis crossed his arms and gave Nick a look that said “Yeah, right, the _fans_.”

“And then,” Nick continued, “I was thinking we could hang out? Later tonight I mean, I have to stay long after the show, but I’m free tonight. What do you think?” Louis gaped, and Nick felt smug. Nick hadn’t gone out much since Louis had made it a point to follow him whenever he did.

Harry’s eyes had grown wider as Nick spoke, and he had the beginnings of a smile on his pretty, pretty lips. “That’d be great!” he said, practically bouncing in his chair. “I’ll just let my manager know during the next song.”

“Yeah, great,” Nick said, smirking. “Let’s have your number, then.”

After that, all semblance of awkwardness Harry had was gone, and he was practically giddy. He’d giggled at nearly everything Nick said, and only responded to Showbot’s merciless teasing with a few “ _Heyyy”_ ’s. Nick couldn’t help but notice that him and Harry had excellent chemistry, and that Harry wasn’t exactly the innocent little lamb he’d assumed he was when he first walked in. Nick ended up looking forward to spending time with Harry later that night for reasons unrelated to his lips and arse.

By the end of the show, Harry had stayed over an hour passed the time he was supposed to leave, Matt had almost torn his hair out trying to keep the two of them in line, and Louis had mysteriously disappeared.

“Good riddance,” Nick thought.

***

“So,” Nick slurred, stumbling through the door of his flat, “how about that Harry Styles, then? Heaven or Hell?”

Louis was sitting on the arm of Nick’s couch, looking bored. Puppy sat next to him, letting him pet her head absentmindedly. She glared up at Nick, as though he was intruding on them. Louis was giving him a similar look.

“How am I supposed to know?” Louis said, punching the remote on the button to turn the television off. “Go to sleep, Nick.”

Before Nick could respond, Louis disappeared, leaving an empty living room and a disgruntled Puppy. Nick shrugged, who was he to know what went on in the mind of the little devil? He collapsed on the couch, getting a growl and nip from Puppy in return, and passed out.

***

Being friends with Harry Styles was like nothing Nick had thought it would be.  The boy was absolutely insane, in a good way, and so ridiculously _good_. The first few times they went out together, Nick couldn’t help thinking that he wouldn’t last long in this business. He was too trusting, too willing to give you the shirt off his back. But over time Nick realized that what he had originally thought was naiveté was actually just him not giving two shits what people thought of him. Nick was impressed, to say the least.

Before he knew it, Harry had been sucked into Nick’s group of close friends. Nick made a habit of going out with Harry at least once a week after that first night. He couldn’t help if the guy was fun to hang out with! He and Nick had developed a relationship revolved around Harry’s unending adoration for him and Nick’s constant need for attention. It also didn’t hurt that once Nick started spending an extensive amount of time with Harry he was featured more in the press by an exponential amount. There were worse things to be than photographed on the arm of a young, hot celebrity. If the general public wanted to believe Nick was fucking a talented, smoking hot pop star who was almost ten years younger than him, more power to them, even though Nick had learned early on that _that_ was never going to happen.

Of all the things Nick had learnt about Harry Styles (he had a rather strong aversion to clothes, he would eat anything if there was some sort of fruit involved, he would wear the same outfit for days on end unless someone made him change), one of the first was that he was completely, stupidly, head-over-heels in love with his band’s lead guitarist.

Nick had only been slightly disappointed when he met Niall, if only in mourning of all the amazing sex he could have had with Harry. Niall was a nice enough bloke, funny as anything, and him and Harry were completely adorable, if entirely oblivious to the other’s affections. Nick wasn’t going to get in the way of True Love. That would make Louis far too happy.

Speaking of, Louis had, strangely, left Nick alone on the nights Nick went out with Harry. The first few times Nick had been jittery and nervous, constantly looking over his shoulder for a familiar glimpse of fluttering wings or feathery hair, but he was never there. He still followed Nick everywhere else, but whenever Nick would mention Harry coming over to the flat, or going out to dinner with Harry, Louis would just huff and pop away. Nick couldn’t figure out whether Louis thought Harry was a good or bad influence on Nick’s Immortal Soul. He figured it was probably a good one, because Nick had once seen Harry give an entire pizza (that was meant to be Nick’s dinner, thank you very much) to a homeless person. But whatever, Nick wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. If anything, Louis’ continued absence was an excuse to spend even more time with Harry.

The only downside was that, while Nick was gallivanting all over the city with pop stars, Louis was apparently using his downtime to turn Nick’s own dog against him.

Puppy wouldn’t even look at him. She’d just sit there and turn her nose away. Nick retaliated by hiding her favorite toys and calling her all sorts of horrible names.

But, missing chew toys or not, it still kind of hurt to have his dog so angry at him, so Nick decided he would take her on a long walk after work, maybe let her jump around in the disgusting park pond, anything to win back her favor. He’d told Louis this, at the studio while Rihanna found love in a hopeless place and Matt and Fiona were out of the room for something or other. Louis had laughed in his face.

“Just give it up,” Louis said. “She likes me better! She’s loyal to _me_ now.” He looked thoughtful. “You know, I never imagined my first Hellhound would be a jack russell, but maybe I should start small.”

“ _Please_ do not condemn my innocent dog to Hell,” Nick groaned, right as Matt walked back into the room. Matt paused, looked as though he wanted to say something, but instead shook his head and walked right back out of the room.

The walk had, as usual walks with Puppy Grimshaw were, been absolutely terrible. Nick had made Louis promise not to come, to give himself a tiny inkling of a chance of winning his dog back, so Puppy had refused to actually walk in protest. Nick had practically dragged her along the sidewalk before finally giving up and carrying her.

Once she got to the park she perked up a little, sniffing at plants and traumatizing some ducks. But after a while she seemed to remember she was supposed to be mad at Nick for whatever reason and sat unmoving in the grass. Nick was fine with that, content to lay in the grass next to her and text Harry. He would be going off on tour soon, so Nick made plans to meet him that night for going-away drinks. Once the sun began to set, Nick picked Puppy up and began the trip home to get ready.

After a long, frustrating trek home (in which Puppy had first tried to pee _on_ Nick, then on a poor, unsuspecting old woman, and then tried attacking said women), Nick was contemplating just telling Harry to meet him at the flat for a quiet night in.

When Nick walked through the front door, hand over Puppy’s mouth to act as a muzzle and prevent her from biting his nose off, he was met with the sound of an unfamiliar voice.

He froze, listening. The intruder’s accent was thick, Nick couldn’t place it. Not that he really cared whether he knew where the guy grew up when he was possibly _robbing his house_.

Nick clutched Puppy tightly, shaking her a bit to try and get her to bark or _something_ , some guard dog she was, but she just glared at him in response and tried to bite his hair.

The intruder’s voice was met with an extremely familiar one and Nick froze again, this time to listen.

“Look, Zayn, just do me a favor, yeah? You owe me? Remember Perrie?”

“That was _ages_ ago, Lou, and it didn’t even work! This Harry guy is _solid_ _,_ man! His record is so clean it _actually sparkles_. _And_ he’s got musical talent, there’s no way we’re getting him. Why do you even want him? Is this about the guy you’re working on now?”

“Zayn, if anyone can do it it’s you—“

“No, Louis, if anyone can do it, it’s _you_. But you’re here wasting your time—“

“Don’t talk to me about wasting time when you’ve been with Liam for, what? Two years now? Tell me again how he saved three babies from a burning building that one time—“

“Don’t bring my job into this when this was supposed to be in and out and you’ve been here for six months—“

“Look, will you take Harry Styles or not?” Louis said, running a hand over his face. Nick had slowly made his way down the hallway of his flat to the living room, where all the commotion was taking place, anger growing with every step.

“Take Harry Styles where?” He asked quietly, barely taking note Louis’ transformation into a tail-less, wing-less person of _normal_ size. “Zayn” was tall, dark, and handsome. So much so that, had Nick not been entirely consumed with anger, he might have gotten extremely flustered and made a fool of himself around him, but at that moment Nick had eyes only for Louis.

“And that’s my cue to go,” Zayn said, eyes moving quickly between Nick and Louis. “I can’t, Lou, I’ve got my hands full with Liam. Good luck.” He disappeared then, leaving a cloud of black smoke.

“You don’t understand,” Louis said hesitantly, “I’m just trying to…Harry’s—Harry’s making it hard for me to—“

“To what? Do your _job_?” Nick spat, setting Puppy down on the ground. She scurried out of the room. “You’d send a perfectly innocent _kid_ to Hell just because he was getting in the way of your _job_? Of an, apparently, easy job?” Louis looked down at his feet, wringing his hands. Nick had thought of how he would react were Louis to turn up human sized before, but he never thought it would be like this. His lip curled. “Harry is a _good person_. The best I know. He’s worth a _million_ of you. All you are is a nuisance. You do it _professionally_. It’s no fucking surprise you ended up in Hell.” Louis flinched, still not meeting Nick’s eyes. He was still quite a bit shorter than Nick. Tattoos Nick couldn’t make out before stood in stark contrast to Louis’ tan skin. Across his collarbone were the words “It is what it is.”

“You can do whatever you want with me, I’m stuck with you, but you _stay away_ from Harry. He’s done _nothing_. That’s not how this is supposed to work. There are—there are _rules_.”

Louis clenched his fists, pulling his head up to glare directly into Nick’s eyes. His eyes had changed, glowing red in the dimness of the room.

“And what,” Louis’ voice rumbled like thunder, air crackling around them, “would _you_ know about Heaven and Hell?” The room started shaking, picture frames rattling on the walls. Nick’s ears started to ring. “Have you ever been to Hell, Nick?” Louis said, voice low and rasping. “Do you know what it’s like? What Hell is?” Louis took a step forward and the room shook even harder. The light that had illuminated them from the hallway went out, leaving the room in darkness. Louis’ eyes grew brighter, his teeth glinting dangerously. “Hell is suffering. It’s pain and sorrow and penance and _eternity_. And after an eternity, Hell is _me._ And I can do,” Louis took another step and grabbed Nick’s arm, jerking him down to eye level, “whatever the fuck I want.” Louis’ eyes were a world of their own, a swirling mass of fire and smoke.

The room shook harder, a violent wind tearing at Nick’s clothes. Louis stared unblinking into Nick’s eyes, and Nick was realizing that Louis was, in fact, a demon. An honest to god monster. He’d been _living_ with him and he was a _monster_.

Nick’s hands shook, and he wanted to look away or piss his pants or fight but he couldn’t. The wind was roaring in his ears and he felt like he should be screaming, but the sound lodged deep in his throat. He heard a bark.

The room abruptly went quiet. The lights had all turned back on and everything was still. Louis wasn’t looking at him anymore, focused on the doorway to the hall, where Puppy was sitting, tail between her legs. His eyes were clear blue and wide. He looked back at Nick, blinking, and then he was gone in a puff of smoke.

Nick collapsed onto the couch, mouth still open and gaping, amongst the debris that had once been his living room. Puppy scrambled up onto the couch and onto his lap, shaking and whimpering. Nick didn’t go anywhere that night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took so long! school happened and stuff. thank u so much for all your feedback!! i honestly didn't think anyone would be too into this story. again, no one's looked at this besides me, so if u see any glaring horrible errors please let me know!! sorry for the lack of louis too whoops. hope you like it!

“It’s only going to be a couple of weeks,” Harry said brightly. “Not like, leaving the UK or anything, but it’s exciting you know?”

“Yes, Harold, I know,” Nick sighed, loading the last of Harry’s luggage into his modestly-sized tour bus. “You’ve only told me, what? Forty times a day since you found out?” Harry made a noise that Nick supposed was meant to convey glee.

“I can’t help it! It’s my _first tour_!” Harry smiled, but then his face dropped dramatically. “I’m going to miss you though.”

Nick rolled his eyes to disguise the fond look he felt building up at the statement. “Yeah, yeah, whatever Styles. I’m sure you’ll be blowing up my phone bragging about all the fun you’re having while I sit alone with my dog.” Nick paused then, hesitant. “Hey, you haven’t been…seeing anything…weird…lately? Have you?”

“What?” Harry looked incredulous, looking around like aliens were about to descend from the sky. “Um, no?” He laughed a little, “You’re acting weird. I’m not even gone yet and you’re already cracking without me.”

“Um, no. It’s nothing. Forget I asked.” Nick frowned, running a hand through his hair. “Well I guess I’ll just be, uh, going—“ He was interrupted by Harry squeezing him into a hug.

“You’re a good guy, Nick. Really.” Harry pulled away and pat Nick on the shoulder. I really will miss you.”

“Oh god, you’re such a child,” Nick said, pushing Harry’s shoulder lightly. “I’ll miss you too.”

***

“So,” Nick began, talking into his microphone, “do you ever think about the, the good and bad in people?”

“Someone’s feeling deep today,” Matt replied. “This isn’t like you.  Are you being serious?”

“I can be deep! I am _so_ deep,” Nick said indignantly. “I’m _zen_.”

“You threw a tantrum the other day at the pub when they didn’t have the wine you like,” Ian said, grinning. “You locked yourself in your bedroom when someone thought you were Harry’s dad.”

“I do _not_ look old enough to father a teenager!” Nick cried, then slumped back in his chair and crossed his arms. Matt reached over to turn his microphone down a notch. “But anyway,” he pulled his microphone down to his mouth, “back on topic. Do you ever look at a person and try to figure out if they’re good or bad? I do that a lot, used to make it into a sort of game with…a friend of mine.”

“That’s a _terrible_ game,” Fiona said, frowning.

“It’s a stupid game,” Ian corrected, “no one is entirely good or entirely bad. The worst person you know could turn around and save a child from a well or something. People are too complicated for that.”

“But _are they?”_ Nick asked, chewing on his lip. “What if there’s like, a scale? A point system? The bad outweighs the good and you’re doomed forever?”

“And it’s time for the news,” Matt said. “I’m not sure I like this new, deep-thinking Grimmy, but if any of our listeners are feeling particularly philosophical today, let us know what you think on twitter at R1Breakfast.”

“Right,” Nick said, frowning, “It’s 8:30 AM and here’s the news with Tina Daheley.” Nick turned his microphone down, slipping his headphones down to his neck. He hadn’t meant to bring up that particular topic on his silly morning show, but Nick tended to get a little too casual when talking on the air. It wasn’t fair, having to work with his friends and not talk to them as friends usually did.

“What was _that_ about?” Matt asked, incredulous. “How did we go from Rihanna’s nipple piercing to your sudden existential crisis?”

“Hey, mate, are you okay?” Ian asked, leaning over to look Nick in the eye. Nick shrugged sheepishly.

“Just thinking about things, sorry guys.” In truth, since Louis left, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it. Beyond the silly game he would play with Louis, Nick had put a lot of thought into his immortal soul and where exactly it was headed when he inevitably kicked the bucket.

“Yeah, well, I doubt people really want to contemplate the inherent good and evil of man while on their drive to work,” Matt said, slipping his headphones on as Tina finished the news. “Also, you need to mention the Katy Perry interview. She’ll be here Friday.” Nick groaned and put his own headphones back on, thinking back to the day he had brought the singer up with Louis.

“Are you kidding me?” Louis had responded. “Have you seen her eyes? She’s absolutely demented! Of course she’s one of ours. But then again,” he’d looked thoughtful, “ _California Girls_ is a decent tune. It might just get her a trip up.”

After that, Nick chatted a little with Tina, plugged the Katy Perry interview, and played a Justin Bieber record, but found he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was a weight missing on his left shoulder, leaving him feeling unbalanced and awkward.

***

“Harry Styles, do you believe in God?”  On the webcam, Harry nearly spit out the mouthful of tea he had just drank. Nick didn’t feel bad for suddenly bringing up the topic, Harry had been talking about how great Niall was at the guitar for a good twenty minutes.

“Um,” Harry coughed, “I don’t? Know? I guess?” He beat his chest with his fist, shuffling around on his hotel bed and shaking the camera. “It’s kind of hard getting all this,” he gestured to the room, “and not believing in some sort of higher power. What brought this on?”

“Um, it’s nothing,” Nick replied awkwardly. He really needed to develop some sort of thought-to-mouth filter.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Harry asked, leaning into the webcam. “I was listening to the show the other day. What’s going on?”

Nick leaned back, avoiding Harry’s eyes. He was sitting in his bedroom, living room not quite back to normal after The Louis Incident. Puppy was lying on the bed next to him, head on her paws. Usually she wasn’t allowed on the bed, condemned to her dog bed on the floor or to the couch, but she’d just been so _sad_ since Louis left, moping around and refusing to play with her toys even after Nick had given them back.

It was stupid, he _knew_ it was stupid, and he felt stupid for thinking it, but he sort of, maybe, possibly missed Louis a bit. Puppy definitely missed Louis. And Nick had _tons_ of friends, but he felt lonely. Annoying or not, Nick had gotten used to Louis being around, and maybe even started to like the little shit.

Sure, he was actively trying to condemn Nick to eternal suffering, and towards the end he revealed that he could also be fucking _terrifying_ if he wanted to, but he was also sort of funny, and he kept Nick on his toes. Nick _needed_ someone to do that, because when he was left to his own devices he very often did things that would earn him that eternity of suffering.

He _missed_ the irritating bastard. He missed his stupid squeaky voice and fluffy hair, and he missed having someone to sit and watch shitty TV with and not ending up fidgety and bored halfway through. And it was _stupid_.

It was stupid because, honestly, Louis was a bad influence on Nick. It was his _job_ to be a bad influence on Nick. Nick had no filter around Louis, and it had begun to seep into his every day, not-demon-infested life, if that conversation with Harry and Nick’s little moment on the show was anything to go by. There was also the whole matter of Louis being a _demon_.

The thing was that Nick should probably want nothing to do with Louis after that incident. He’d very nearly pissed his pants that day, but in the aftermath all Nick felt was curiosity. What _else_ could Louis do? Why had he been normal sized? Could he control how he looked? Nick wasn’t normally a curious person, usually content to just live and let live, but Nick had looked into Louis’ glowing eyes and suddenly he wanted to know all the secrets of the universe. It wasn’t fair of Louis to dangle all that shiny new perspective in Nick’s face and then disappear.

Harry was silent, assessing. He opened and closed his mouth to say something, but couldn’t find the words.

“Hey, Nick? You know what else I believe in? Like, more than anything?” Nick shook his head, feeling childish. “I believe that you have to do whatever it takes to make yourself happy.” Harry bit his lip, still struggling to find the words. “I’m not saying it’s okay to like, go out and rob a bank or kill someone or anything,” Nick snorted. Harry ignored him, “But you owe it to yourself to do what is best for you while you’re alive, right?”

“That’s the motto,” Nick said, jokingly. Harry launched into a heartfelt rendition of _The Motto_ , complete with rap hand gestures. Nick grimaced.

“Please don’t ever rap at me, Harold, it’s unsettling. Stick to your sappy love songs.” He grinned, sheepish, down at Harry’s smiling face. “You’re surprisingly wise for one barely out of diapers.”

Harry wasn’t even offended. “I’m a songwriter,” he shrugged, “You get to thinking about a lot of things.” There was a noise from Harry’s end, banging on the door to his hotel room.

“Haz!” a voice came from the other side, “get your sorry arse out here, Josh is about to try and eat a dozen eggs in one sitting!” The voice had a thick Irish accent, and Harry’s smile instantly went ten times goofier, dopey and shy and fond all at once. Nick rolled his eyes.

"You probably have access to the best drugs money can buy, and you lot are out there having egg eating contests." Harry laughed, aiming that silly smile at Nick.

"I've got to go. I'll text you later?"

"Yeah, yeah whatever," Nick said, waving a hand dismissively. "Just leave me here all alone while you go gallivanting with your Irishman." Harry's blush could be seen even on the low quality webcam. "You know," Nick said, smiling softly, "you should take your own advice. About doing what's necessary to make yourself happy." He gave a meaningful look in what he hoped was the direction of the door of Harry's hotel room.

"Niall's-- Niall's not-- whatever, you big baby. You're not alone, you have Puppy there with you, so I don't feel bad for you." Harry turned his nose up to the camera, trying and failing to look angry. "I'll talk to you later, love you, bye!" He said quickly, and then he was gone. Nick sighed.

"Dumb as a rock, that one," Nick said to Puppy conversationally. "But maybe he had a point." Puppy looked up at him, tilting her head to the side. Nick sighed again, falling back on the bed. "I guess I've got some work to do then." Puppy's tail began to wag.

***

Nick hid behind a tree, turning to look around it every few seconds. The plan was simple. Louis had been sent to Nick because Nick had pretty much been an asshole his entire life, right? Which meant that someone Down There was monitoring the general amount of assholery Nick displayed on a day to day basis. So the idea was that Nick would up his Asshole Output and, hopefully, gain the attention of someone or something in Hell. That someone or something namely being Louis.

Puppy stood in plain view of the general public, staring as Nick hid behind a tree like a lunatic. She barked as though offering encouragement. Or demanding to be let off her leash. Nick pushed his finger over his mouth, shushing her. He eyed his target, a little girl holding a balloon on the sidewalk. He looked back down at Puppy, nodding determinately. He'd planned this perfectly, going on several trips to the park with Puppy in the name of reconnaissance. He was prepared.

He nodded again, counted backwards from ten in his head, and walked out. Him and Puppy walked calmly down the sidewalk towards the girl, whistling and doing their best to look perfectly innocent.

As soon as they were next to the little girl, Nick gulped, then smiled down at her. She smiled back, gaps in her teeth. Nick then pulled a pair of scissors out of his pocket and cut the ribbon of her balloon. The girl looked bewildered, and then devastated. Nick and Puppy booked it.

***

“Has anyone ever told you,” Nick said casually, “that your eyes are absolutely _demented_?” Katy Perry looked surprised, sitting across from him in a cutesy dress an alarming shade of pale green.

“Is that some sort of British slang?” she said, laughing a little and looking at Matt where he stood wide-eyed next to Nick.

“No,” Nick said, “you look absolutely insane. Honestly, it’s making me uncomfortable.” Nick made a face, “much like that dress, which, for the listeners who are not watching right now at bbc.co.uk or on the bbc iplayer phone app, is pretty terrible. But anyway, my friend Katy here is here to promote her new single, which I didn’t bother listening to until now. Here it is! Whatever it’s called by Katy Perry.” Nick hit the button to play the song, gave Katy Perry a little wave, and sat back in his chair. Behind him, Matt Fincham fainted.

***

“Excuse me,” an old lady asked Nick, standing in the car park of Tesco. “Would you give me a hand in putting my groceries in the boot of my car?” She was about three feet tall, with purple hair and house slippers. Nick looked down at his one bag, containing one bottle of lube and two bottles of wine. He looked over at the woman’s cart, overflowing with bags. He smiled.

“No, sorry,” he said, and practically skipped away to the sound of her cursing.

***

Nick sighed, lying back on his couch. _We Can’t Stop_ played loudly through his impressive sound system, creating a comforting cocoon of thumping vibration. He had long tuned out the actual song, instead letting it settle into white noise. The sound had drowned out the yelling of Nick’s neighbors, so it was actually quite peaceful. Nick was never one to enjoy silence in any form.

Louis made a lot of stupid noises, constant humming and snorting and giggling. Snuffling in Nick’s ear and generally being a nuisance. Louis had provided a running commentary on anything and everything Nick did or said, and Nick never imagined that he would miss it.

He sighed again, throwing his arms over his face. He was running out of ideas. There were only so many shitty things he could do on a daily basis without losing his job or getting arrested. Speaking of.

He stood up and shut off his music. He heard the thankful yells of his neighbors, probably moments away from calling the police and filing a noise complaint. Puppy poked her head in the room, as though checking that the noise was finally gone, before toddling into the room and settling on Nick’s spare armchair.

Nick didn’t understand why nothing he was doing was working. Surely Hell would have noticed exactly how much Nick was going out of his way to be a complete tool? Is this how they worked? Just expose people to this whole new world of Good and Bad and Angels and Demons and then just leave him to fend for himself?

There was also the possibility that it was all in Nick’s head, that he had dreamed Louis and his wings and his scary powers. It was a possibility Nick wasn’t trying to think about at that moment, but was becoming increasingly more likely as time wore on. Especially considering Nick had long since cleaned up the mess left behind from Louis’ departure and all concrete evidence of Louis’ presence was gone.

He threw himself back onto the couch, wriggling awkwardly to pull his phone out of the pocket of his skinny jeans. There were several messages from people wondering where the hell Nick was on a Friday night, and why he wasn’t out with them. Nick thought about it, considering the relative Badness level a weekend-long bender would achieve, and decided he couldn’t be bothered. He then proceeded to systematically delete every message without responding.

Nick _loved_ being an asshole most of the time, being an asshole eliminated a lot of bullshit from his life. There was a certain satisfaction in being mean that Nick reveled in, that kept him walking the line of what he could and couldn’t say on the show. Nick spent his days being borderline rude to nearly everyone he encountered and it kept him relevant. It got him invites to the most exclusive parties and panel shows and it got him the job he’d dreamed of having from the time he was ten years old. Nick had been lucky, very lucky, to have had his intense cynicism and bitterness misconstrued as being funny.

Before, he had never before considered the long term consequences of all the jokes at other peoples’ expense. Long term consequences being, of course, eternal ones. The most he had figured was a possible life of lonely, bitter singlehood, most people not willing to put up with his particular brand of douchebag long enough to develop a romantic relationship, and he was fine with that. He had a ton of friends, as well as a seemingly never-ending supply of pretty young models willing to have sloppy drunk sex with him on the weekends.

Funnily enough, it was Louis coming into his life that really had him thinking about just how much of an idiot he had truly been. It was like Louis had pointed out a nervous tic Nick had, and from then on Nick had noticed every time he did it. Louis had come and brought to his attention exactly how terrible he was and had given Nick a complex.

It was confusing and unpleasant, having to reevaluate your entire life just when you thought you had it all figured out. It was as though Louis kick-started Nick’s mid-life crisis a good twenty years before it was supposed to happen.

Even so, spending time with Louis had also been the most fun Nick had had in months. _Years_ , even.  Settling into adulthood hadn’t exactly been easy for Nick, a steady job and early bedtime wasn’t in his nature, but Louis had provided a sense of domesticity that Nick never knew he wanted. He learned to appreciate all the nights in watching shit television and eating takeout. The restlessness Nick had carried around his entire life settled and now all he wanted was that simplicity again.

He sighed for the millionth time. He felt pathetic. He _was_ pathetic. He clicked his phone off and in the process managed to drop it on his face. He left it there because he deserved the punishment.

He heard Puppy clatter to the floor and patter over to the couch. She jumped up and made herself comfortable on Nick’s chest with a quiet snuffle, and that’s where they stayed for the rest of the night.

***

When thinking back, the thing Nick is most ashamed of is how easy it had been.

It had been absentminded, in the middle of a relatively uneventful show one morning. Nick had been scrolling through twitter and retweeting any hate he saw and adding the painted nails emoji. He hadn’t even heard what Matt said at first.

“Sorry,” he said, lifting his head to look at his producer. “What was that again?”

“I said,” Matt sighed, annoyed, “that Showbot has a joke about Harry today, are you alright with that?”

Nick frowned. “Of course I am. You’ve made fun of my mates plenty of times before. What makes this time any different?”

“I don’t know,” Matt said, shrugging, “It seems like you two are really close.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, leering. Ian snorted from where he sat in the corner reading the latest issue of Heat. Nick furrowed his eyebrows and made to respond when Matt gestured frantically towards his headphones, the Little Mix song they were playing coming to an end. Nick closed his mouth, frowning harder, and moved toward his microphone.

“Hiya. That was Little Mix, and this is Matt Fincham explaining exactly what he meant when we were talking during the song.” He moved away from the microphone and looked at Nick expectantly, letting the dramatic background music play for a few seconds before Matt sighed and slipped his own headphones on.

“I was just asking,” he said slowly, “about the nature of our dear Grimmy’s relationship with popstar Harry Styles.”

“He was speaking lies and slander,” Nick interrupted. “I have nothing to do with that child.”

“Oh really?” Ian said, putting on a pair of headphones, “because you spent quite a lot of time together when he was in London.”

“The boy’s a party animal,” Nick protested, “and he’s famous, and not too hard on the eyes. Did you expect me to _not_ go out when he invited me? Stepping out in public with him is instant publicity,” Nick snapped, “like _that_.”

Ian was frowning now, but Matt had a glint in his eyes that Nick recognized all too well. “Nicholas Grimshaw,” Matt said, delighted, “are you telling me you’ve been using Harry Styles to get yourself on the covers of tabloid magazines?”

“I wouldn’t say _using_ ,” Nick said, jokingly. In the corner of his eye he could see the texts lighting up with hundreds of fans rushing to defend Harry. “And I’m _definitely_ not sleeping with him Finchy, you pervert. He’s,” Nick stopped, reminding himself that it would probably be best to not out Harry to the entire world without his permission, “too busy shagging half of London’s middle aged women. Don’t you pay attention? I wouldn’t if you paid me.” There was a moment of silence, so Nick hit the button to change his background music. “But anyway, it’s time for our Big Thing.”

Nick rambled a bit after that, introducing his song of the week and gushing a little. Matt chatted a little with him, but Ian sat, silent, giving Nick a look he couldn’t really comprehend until his phone buzzed loudly over the Arctic Monkeys song they were playing and he looked down to see that he was receiving a call from none other than Niall Horan.

Matt looked at him disapprovingly, looking like he was going to go off on another one of his rants about Professionalism, but Nick couldn’t look away from Ian, who now was looking at him with something Nick grew to recognize as pity.

Nick ran a hand through his hair, cursing under his breath. Ian finally looked away, shaking his head.  Matt chattered about the day’s schedule, seemingly ignorant to what had just gone down, or maybe just uncaring. Nick eyed the texts, coming in pretty much entirely in all capital letters, and felt dread unfurl dangerously in his belly. He looked back down at his phone to see Niall had left a voice message, and his phone was lighting up with texts. He tried to imagine how Louis would react to what he had just done, what he had just said about his good friend. Maybe he would have approved, but for some reason Nick couldn’t make himself believe that.

***

After the show ended Nick called Harry exactly thirty-five times, and sent him double that amount in text messages. He DM’d him on twitter, and even went as far as to send him several emails. After several hours and an extraordinary amount of threatening text messages from Niall telling him to back off, Nick went out and got drunk.

He had intended to get wasted alone, bitter and angry in the back of some random club, glaring at all the people around him having fun, but he was Nick Grimshaw, and wherever he went there was always someone there to welcome him, so Nick embraced it.

And then, because it was so easy, he kept doing it. He went out every night and drank until he couldn’t walk straight; eventually stumbling into the studio in oversized sunglasses and the clothes he had worn the day before. After trudging through a full day of work he would go home and fall into bed, sleeping in stutters and stops, visions of gray smoke behind his eyelids, and then that night he’d be out again, taking drinks from attractive people in dim lighting.

It wasn’t his first bender, but it was probably his most pathetic, and of this he was painfully, painfully aware.

Almost a week later, sitting in a coffeeshop trying not to fall asleep in his mocha latte, he was put in his place.

“Um, excuse me?” a soft voice came from Nick’s side. Nick had been staring intently at the tiny flower placed on the table in front of him, decidedly _not_ comparing its color to the ice blue of Louis’ eyes just moments before he had disappeared. He jumped at the sound, spilling a tiny bit of his drink on his hand and hissing at the heat. Whoever had talked to him cursed and knelt down next to him, stuttering out apologies and insisting on looking at Nick’s hand. Nick finally looked up at the person next to him and was met with large brown eyes and a furrowed brow. The boy was wearing a faded Spider-man t-shirt and an adorably concerned look. Nick realized that sitting there effectively holding hands while this boy knelt at his feet wasn’t exactly an ideal situation, so he cleared his throat.

“Oh!” the boy said loudly,  dropping Nick’s hand on the table and scrambling back. “I’m so sorry! You’re Nick Grimshaw, right? I googled you but you never know.” His eyes widened as he realized what he just said. “Not that I’m some sort of crazy stalker or anything! I was told to find you! Oh, gosh.” He ran a hand through his short brown hair, biting his lips. Looking at him properly, Nick was particularly displeased to note he was stupidly handsome. The boy held out a hand. “I’m Liam. Liam Payne.”

Nick’s eyes widened. “You mean—“ he started, but he was interrupted when Zayn flopped into the chair across from him, seemingly out of nowhere.

“Yes, yes, the Liam you heard me and Louis talk about.” He clasped his hands in front of him on the table, staring at Nick through his ridiculously long eyelashes. His eyes glowed gold in the bright sunlight of the café, trapping Nick in their gaze. “Liam, sit down, you look ridiculous.”

“Oh,” Liam said, still looking nervous, before he quickly pulled out a chair and sat down next to Nick. “I’m so sorry to intrude like this,” Liam said, and Nick supposed spending any amount of time with Liam Payne meant you would hear him apologize every few moments. “Zayn insisted on coming to see you.”

“How did you even know where to find me?” Nick said, looking between them and tugging on his hair.

“That doesn’t matter,” Zayn snapped. “What _does_ matter is the fact that you need to stop.”

“Excuse me?” Nick yelled, then winced and dropped his voice. “Stop _what,_ exactly?” Zayn’s lip curled.

“Stop crying for attention,” he said, leaning over the table and into Nick’s face, “or whatever the last few weeks has been. It needs to stop, because people are noticing.”

“People?” Nick asked excitedly, “you mean…“

“ _Yes_ ,” Zayn hissed, “people _Down There_.”

“But that’s exactly what I’ve been wanting!” Nick babbled, still excited. “Has Louis—“

“ _Listen_ ,” Zayn said, cutting him off, eyes narrowing. “That’s not a good thing. Louis _failed his assignment._ What do you think that means for him, spending so long here only to return unsuccessful and see you doing a better job condemning yourself than he ever did?”

“Oh,” Nick said, excitement fading. “I—I didn’t realize…”

“Of course you didn’t,” Zayn scoffed, and Liam cut in.

“Don’t be mean,” he scolded, and Zayn just rolled his eyes. Liam turned his stupidly endearing face back to Nick. “He meant well. Didn’t you?”

“I just,” Nick’s hand shook as he ran it through his hair. He was _impossibly_ tired. His bones ached. “I didn’t want that to be the last I ever saw of him.” He pushed his face into his hands, taking a deep breath. He felt someone, probably Liam, rub his back.

“Yeah, well,” Zayn began, and Nick opened his fingers to look at the demon through his hands. Zayn looked significantly less intimidating, and even a little sad, “I’m sorry to say it doesn’t really work that way. Louis is going to be assigned to someone else soon, they’ve figured you’re doing alright on your own for now.” Nick’s stomach dropped.

“Shit,” he muttered, sliding his hands down his face to drag over his mouth. “Shit, shit, shit.”

“I’m very sorry,” Liam said solemnly, still rubbing Nick’s back. Nick felt like he was untethered, unsteady where he sat, as though gravity was failing.

“Look,” Zayn said, “it was never—it was never meant to be a permanent thing in the first place. Louis was meant to push you over the edge, yeah? And then leave you to live out the rest of your life until you died and wound up in Hell with the rest of us. It’s probably best you just move on with your life, mate, and stop thinking about it.”

“That’s the problem,” Nick said, “I _can’t_ stop thinking about it! Everything I do now is carefully thought out. If I do this will I be sent to Heaven? If I keep shopping here will I end up in Hell? It’s everywhere, he’s permeated every bit of my life, to the point where I can’t do anything without thinking about him! I _hate_ it.” Nick bit his lip, reaching up to tug on his hair again, pulling so hard it hurt. Liam reached over and untangled Nick’s hands from his curls. He kept Nick’s hands in his, slowly rubbing his thumbs over the backs of them. He cleared his throat, giving Zayn a look, and Zayn sighed.

“Whatever,” Zayn said, rubbing a hand over his stubble, before disappearing.

“Hey,” Liam said softly, bending his head to look into Nick’s eyes, “look at me, you’re going to be fine.”

“No, I’m _not_ ,” Nick said, voice breaking at the last word. “I can’t do anything without thinking about it, about _him_. He’s changed everything. I don’t know what to do.” Usually, Nick considered himself better than this, better than spilling his sappy guts to a virtual stranger. He didn’t usually spill his guts to anyone, not even his closest friends, but he was tired, and hungover, and _sad_ , and he’d always been a bit of a whiner when he wasn’t feeling his best.

“I know,” Liam cooed, rubbing his hand through Nick’s hair. “It’s shit. It’s so shit, and I can’t imagine how you feel right now. If Zayn were to just up and leave,” he bit his lip, looking down at the table, “I don’t know what I would do.  It’s strange, because we’re meant to resent them, yeah?” He chuckled, rubbing the back of his head with one hand and catching Nick’s hand with the other. “They’re only here to hurt us. Or, it starts that way, but then you get used to them being around, yeah? And you find out they’re just lads like you and me? Only with magical powers…” He looked like he had lost his train of thought there, and Nick almost laughed, but he didn’t think he had the energy.

He sighed and untangled his hand from Liam’s, reaching for his now lukewarm coffee. They fell into silence that was just a tiny bit awkward, the realization that they actually didn’t really know each other settling in, and Liam cleared his throat.

“Well,” he said, clapping his hands together and rubbing them. “Let’s be off then.”

“I’m sorry?” Nick said, hands still grasping his coffee.

“You look about dead on your feet, mate,” Liam said, pulling the coffee out of Nick’s hands and setting it down on the table. “I’m going to drive you home, and you’re going to stay there.” He sounded stern, like a parent scolding his child. “You need rest.”

Nick didn’t say anything, sort of in shock that this much younger man was ordering him around. It was a little hot, actually, but Nick wasn’t going to say anything, and just like that, Liam had Nick back in Nick’s flat, wrapped in blankets with Puppy in his lap while Liam tidied up.

Nick’s eyes followed Liam as the boy puttered around his flat, picking up stray clothes and bottles where Nick had left them and ordering takeout because “Soz mate, I can’t cook to save me life.”

After a while, Liam settled down next to Nick on the couch, petting Puppy and scrolling through channels looking for something to watch, and Nick finally let himself ask.

“How the hell did they decide you had any chance of getting into Hell?” The very idea was absurd. Liam had actually squealed when he saw that Nick had a dog. Liam had just spent an afternoon _cleaning the house of someone he barely knew_.

Liam blushed, looking down and scratching the back of Puppy’s ears with the single-minded focus one has when they’re trying to avoid something else, and Nick thought maybe he had accidentally asked an intensely personal question.

“Sorry,” Nick said quickly, waving his hands in a way that was meant to placate Liam. “I don’t have boundaries. It’s a thing. A thing I need to work on. Sorry.”

“No, no!” Liam said suddenly, patting Nick on the knee. “You’re fine. It doesn’t seem like it would be a personal question.” He looked forward, away from Nick, and seemed to set his shoulders. “I wasn’t always…I wasn’t always the nicest person around.”

“Mate, I’m sorry, but I find it hard to believe that.”

Liam shifted uncomfortably, running a hand through his hair, “Thanks, I guess. But yeah, I was…I was bullied a lot when I was younger. Eventually I started taking boxing lessons to…to defend myself, I guess.” He swallowed, and Puppy leaned over and licked his arm. He gave her a small smile and rubbed her head. “By then though, I was sort of…stuck up? I thought everyone was against me, so I wasn’t the nicest person, even to the people who had never bullied me, I didn’t trust them.” He sighed.

“And then I guess I sort of…convinced myself that the only way I would ever be successful was if I was just as heartless as I could possibly be. And it worked! I was doing very well for myself being a huge donut to everyone. I thought I didn’t need friends.” He laughed, tangling his hands together. “That was when Zayn came around.”

“See?” Nick said, gesturing to Liam. “This is why this whole idea of personal devils is a bad one! All it does is make us _better_ people by pointing out all the shitty things we do!”

Liam laughed. “I guess you’re right,” he said, “because after that I realized exactly how horrible I was being, and realized I was also really unhappy. So I quit my job and went on to pursue my old dream of becoming a fireman, and I’ve been doing that ever since. And I love it.” He turned to look at Nick very intently. “And that’s why I don’t resent Zayn coming into my life at all. It’s a bit scary, knowing all of this stuff is actually real, angels and demons and the like, but in a way I think their method is to make you realize who you really are. And I wasn’t the hard-ass in a suit that I thought I needed to be, and I’m much happier for it.”

He reached over and grabbed Nick’s hand, and Nick wondered if his touchy-feely nature was the result of Liam’s Scrooge-like transformation from uptight douchebag to the loveable puppy man Nick knew today. “I know you’re sad that Louis left, and that it’s hard, but you should take this opportunity to think about who you are, and what you have to do to let yourself be happy. Believe me, it’s worth it. Just think of it as,” he sat back and thought about it, hand still grasping Nick’s, “as a really sad breakup. Irreconcilable differences and the like. It sucks, but once you move on you realize you’re much better off than before.” He squeezed Nick’s hand and smiled, cheeks bunching up under his eyes until they were pretty much shut. “I’ll help you; I could always use more friends.”

Against his will, Nick felt the sides of his mouth turn up. He couldn’t help it, Liam was darn cute.

They heard someone clear their throat behind them, and Liam immediately dropped Nick’s hand, blushing and looking up where Zayn stood behind the couch. “I think that’s enough of that,” he said, raising one eyebrow at Nick.

“Zayn!” Liam said, scrambling up from the couch. He set Puppy carefully back down on the couch, where she proceeded to look up at him with doe eyes. Liam looked down at his watch. “Oh! It’s actually pretty late! I better get going.” He smiled down at Nick. “I put my number in your phone. Call me any time! I’m a fireman, I’m used to calls at odd hours. Us innocent demon targets need to stick together.” Nick nodded, and Liam smiled wider. “Alright then, Zayner, are you going to actually ride with me this time or am I going to be all alone while you poof about like the genie from Aladdin?”

“I’ll ride with you,” Zayn said, glaring at Nick. Nick shrugged at him and he rolled his eyes. “Let’s go.”

“Alright, alright,” Liam said, straightening up from where he had bent down to say goodbye to Puppy. “I’ll see you later, Nick!”

“Grimmy, please,” Nick said, smiling involuntarily. “That’s what my friends call me.”

Liam looked delighted. “Alright then, Grimmy!” he said. Zayn, if it was possible, glared harder at Nick. Nick’s smile transformed into a smirk, and he winked at Zayn. Zayn scowled back at him.

Once he finally succeeded in ushering Liam and Zayn out the door, Nick turned around and slumped against it, the weight of the last few weeks settling uncomfortably back on his shoulders. Puppy looked solemnly up at him from where she was sitting on the floor of his hallway. He nodded at her.

“Right,” he said, setting his shoulders. “It looks like we’ve got some groveling to do. Let’s set things back in order now, shall we?” He pushed himself off of the door and stood tall, putting on his best brave face. Puppy barked, standing up with her tail wagging, and together they walked back through the hallway of Nick’s flat. They managed to get all the way to the living room before Nick collapsed on the sofa, Puppy piled on top of him, and they fell into an exhausted sleep.

***

Getting back on his feet, for Nick, involved a lot of apologizing. First thing in the morning, Nick walked straight into his boss’s office and proceeded to beg for forgiveness. He was put on a sort of probation, sworn by oath to be on his best behavior indefinitely, and coming into work hungover was _absolutely out of the question_.

Next was his production crew, who diligently listened as he groveled at their feet, only to laugh their asses off as soon as he was finished. For all they were concerned it had just been good radio, so they weren’t too bothered. Nick was endlessly grateful for that.

After that, it was all about the listeners. Nick was understandably hesitant; he didn’t really know how to go about it, apologizing to the thousands of people who listened to his show every morning. Eventually he did it the way he usually did things, with a lot of silly antics and self-deprecating jokes. His listeners were wonderful about the whole thing, and he was actually touched by the amount of positive feedback he received afterwards.

The final apology he made was by far the hardest, because going in Nick definitely knew he didn’t deserve forgiveness.

By the time Nick had gathered up the courage to apologize to Harry, the boy had been back in London for a week. It had taken a lot of encouragement, and Liam waiting in the car in front of Harry’s flat, to be able to make his way up to knock on Harry’s door with one of those fancy fruit bouquets in his hands . Soon enough, Nick heard a faint “Coming!” from inside the flat, and Harry opened the door.

He stood there for a moment, wide-eyed and gaping at Nick where he stood on Harry’s cheery welcome mat. Then he shut the door.

Nick winced, but supposed he deserved it. He was just about to turn around, maybe leave the fruit at his doorstep when the door opened again, and Harry was poking his head through.

“I’m sorry, that was rude,” he said slowly, biting his lip. “How can I help you?”

Nick had a speech prepared. He had actually sat down at his dining room table and wrote down what he had wanted to say, with Liam there as moral support (and Zayn brooding in the background, glaring at Puppy from where she sat staring at him). Nick had a tendency to be rather verbose, but thinking of what to say to Harry had been the hardest thing he’d ever done, and at that moment, staring into Harry’s big green eyes, he forgot every word of it.

“I,” Nick said, gulping, “I got you fruit.” Harry’s eyebrows rose, and his eyes darted down to the basket in Nick’s hand.

“Oh,” Harry said, reaching up to rub the side of his nose. “Um, thanks, I guess.” They were quiet for a long moment.

“No,” Nick said, loudly, “No, uh, sorry. That’s. I’m not here just to give you fruit.”

“Okay,” Harry said, even slower than usual. “What are you here for then?” Nick sighed and transferred the fruit basket to one hand, running the other through his hair.

“I, uh,” Nick darted his eyes back to where Liam sat waiting in the car. Liam gave him an enthusiastic thumbs-up. “I’m an arse.” Harry blinked in surprise.

“I mean,” Nick started again, “I’m a really bad guy. I mean _really_ bad. I don’t know what you saw in me in the first place, to be honest. I’m not exactly best friend material.” Harry’s eyebrows furrowed and he opened his mouth to say something so Nick quickly cut him off.

“I never actually used you for publicity,” he said. “That was a lie. I never even thought about it. Though I will be honest and say that I _do_ like things like getting papped and having people talk about me. I like attention, so sue me! I genuinely wanted to spend time with you though, no ulterior motives involved.”

“And I know what you’re thinking. How do I expect you to believe me, right? I don’t, really, because a side effect of being an arse is that I also am a liar, but I really never did. I don’t get fruit for people I don’t like. I don’t usually like people enough to know they like things like fruit, or silly tattoos, or their guitar player. But I’m working on that. Which, this is sort of part of. The fruit and everything, I mean.”

Nick sighed again, tugging on his hair to the point of pain now. “I’m mucking this up now, aren’t I? The whole point of this was to tell you I’m sorry, and that I never meant to hurt your feelings. I know you don’t actually sleep with old ladies. Or maybe you do, but it’s not any of my business to say on national radio. I was no better than the tabloids that say bad things about you, just because I got caught up in hearing my own voice. You get a big head, in my line of work. Well,” Nick ducked his head, “I already sort of had a big head, and having thousands of people willing to hear the stupid stuff my big head has to say wasn’t really good for me.”

“But, Harry,” he said looking up to look in Harry’s eyes, “you’re a really good person. _Really_ good. And you’re wonderful, and talented, and I really don’t deserve someone like you as a friend, so I understand if you would never like to see me again, but I needed to do this. So, what I mean to say is: I’m sorry. Really, really, really, really sorry. And I’d like to be your friend again, if you’d let me.” Nick looked down again, focusing on his shoes.

There was another moment of silence, and it seemed to last years. After a while, Nick began to feel nervous, shuffling his feet and moving the fruit basket from one hand to the other.

“You—“

“Nick, look—“

They both froze, blushing.

“You go first,” Harry said, voice small.

“Um, okay,” Nick said, scratching the back of his head. “I was just going to say, uh, if you don’t want to forgive me you can still keep the fruit.”

They stared at each other some more, silent, and then Harry burst into laughter.

Nick made a confused noise, which just made Harry laugh harder. He was bent over, clutching his stomach. Nick stepped back to give him room. Harry laughed for a good minute, while Nick stood awkwardly in front of him, and then when he finally started to calm down he looked back up at Nick, faced flushed and smiling, and started laughing again, this time so hard he fell to the floor, crumpled up on the welcome mat.

“I don’t,” Nick said, “I don’t know how to react right now.” But even so, he felt the first bubbles of laughter climb up his throat, wanting to escape. Harry was still laughing, rolling from side to side on the ground, and Nick couldn’t help it, he started laughing as well.

They laughed together, Harry on the ground and Nick standing, one hand over his face, for a good while. Eventually it died down and they were left panting on Harry’s front porch, Nick still holding the god forsaken basket of fruit.

“Of course I’m still your friend, Nick,” Harry said, smiling up at him, curls splayed around his head like a halo. “All you had to do was say you’re sorry. I missed you.”

Nick sighed in relief, running one hand down his face. “Oh, good,” he said simply, and Harry giggled.

“Why don’t you come in?” Harry said, beginning to pick himself up. “You can invite your friend over there too. He looks rather concerned.” They both turned to look at Liam, who was looking at them with the adorably confused look Nick was beginning to become familiar with.

“That’d be lovely,” Nick said, smiling. Harry smiled back, before grabbing the fruit basket and barreling into the house, saying something about making some food. Nick turned back to where Liam sat in the car. Liam looked at him questioningly and Nick smiled back, and Liam pumped his fist in the air triumphantly.

***

After that, life went back to normal, or at least as normal as it could possibly have been, considering. Liam stuck around because he seemed to think Nick needed looking after, which was a little annoying, considering their eight year age difference, and with Liam came Zayn, who tended to just hover about in the background. Harry started coming around again, eventually dragging a reluctant Niall, who was still angry at Nick but had the attention span of a squirrel so he often forgot he was supposed to be angry at Nick. All together they made a kind of silly looking group, but it was nice having them around.

Nick developed a daily routine, something he thought he would never do in fear of becoming boring. He would go to work, come home and take Puppy out for a walk, have dinner with either Harry or Liam or both, and go to sleep early. It _was_ boring, but Nick was comfortable.

He still felt unbalanced sometimes, as though the world was unsteady underneath his feet, one shoulder heavier than the other. It was mostly when Liam and Harry were around with their endless amount of energy and boyish charm, or when he saw Zayn pop out of nowhere in a cloud of smoke, eyes glowing in the darkness. At those times Nick found himself thinking things like “fuck off, Louis” or “leave me alone” until eventually Nick took to “talking” to Louis often.

It was ridiculous, and probably unhealthy, because it wasn’t like Louis was _dead_ or anything. He was still out there somewhere. He just wasn’t there with Nick, who had become stupidly attached and lost without his presence, which was rude on Louis’ part, so Nick retaliated by constantly insulting Louis in his head.

When Showbot would tell a particularly embarrassing or rude joke, Nick would think “Shut up, it’s not that funny.” And when Nick saw that _Keeping Up With The Kardashians_ was on television he’d make a point of changing the channel immediately, thinking something along the lines of “Hah! Fuck you!”

On their daily walks, Nick would have to keep Puppy on her leash at all times, seeing as she would immediately make a break for the pond if Nick let her off it, and Nick would suffer through her growling at him and drag her through the park thinking “You did this, you arse.”

And sometimes, on nights Nick couldn’t fall asleep, he’d drop the act and let himself miss Louis.

(“I miss your stupid face, and your fluffy hair, and your scratchy, annoying voice, and the way you were friends with my dog.”

“I miss your ridiculous laugh, and trying to figure out your tiny tattoos. I miss our game. I miss you when you were tiny and I miss you when you were big, even though I didn’t get to see it for very long.”

“I miss you, I miss you, I miss you. Every single day.”)

He didn’t tell anyone about this little habit of his. It was weird and a little creepy, why would he? But every once in a while, after thinking a particularly vicious insult about Louis, he would notice Zayn giving him a funny look, which brought him back to his thought all those months ago of how he really hoped demons couldn’t read minds.

So all in all, life wasn’t too bad.

***

A few months later, and Nick had almost regained his balance, feeling as though he had both feet on the ground for once. He was going out again, nothing too crazy, but Henry had managed to convince him to DJ at the launch party of his new line. It was pretty boring, to be honest, as boring as a party populated by hot young celebrities could be. Nick was over it.

He left as soon as he was able, apologizing to Henry and promising to call him the next day for lunch. He waved goodbye to Harry -- who was surrounded by people as usual, only this time sitting with his hand tucked into Niall’s, practically on the other boy’s lap -- and made his way out the club.

It wasn’t too late, but it was late enough that Nick was virtually alone on the street. The cool air felt nice on his skin after the heat of the club, so he decided to walk home.

This ended up being a bad idea, because Nick quickly realized that walking home alone at night was really boring. He had no one to talk to, and all of his friends were at Henry’s party so he couldn’t call them. Liam was working, so Nick felt bad bothering him. He ended up pulling his earbuds out of his bag, pushing them into is ears and bobbing along down the street to Drake’s latest album. He toddled along, mouthing the words, until he stopped short.

He was in front of a Tescos, still open and bright despite the late hour. What had caught his attention though was the man sitting in front of the store, obviously cold and strumming a guitar. He had a cardboard sign reading “WILL PLAY FOR FOOD” in large block letters. The man looked up and caught Nick’s eye, raising one eyebrow. Nick pulled his earbuds out of his ears, letting them drape across his shoulders. He opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again and asked “Do you know any Drake?”

The man stopped strumming his guitar and leaned back against the wall of the building, thinking. Then he smiled and fiddled with his guitar, finally beginning to pluck at the strings, alternating between that and slapping the side of his guitar, forming a familiar beat. Soon enough he opened his mouth and started singing the chorus to _Started from the Bottom_.

Nick grinned widely, pulling out his phone and recording a bit of it, posting it on instagram ( _“i’m OBSESSED with this man”)._ After a while of listening, Nick clapped enthusiastically, pocketing his phone and asking the man what he would like from inside the store.  

Five minutes later and Nick emerged triumphant, a sandwich and a large bottle of water in his hands. He bent forward, holding the goods out for the man to grab, and the man smiled, reaching up to take the food but then froze, mouth dropping open. Nick frowned, pushing the food forward. “What’s wrong?” he asked, straightening up.

The man quickly scrambled away from him, guitar clanging loudly on the sidewalk, then he reached forward and grabbed the guitar, stumbling to his feet and making his way down the street as fast as he could. Nick called after the man, raising one hand as though he could catch him, but the man was gone.

“What?” Nick asked, reaching up to run a hand through his hair. He looked from side to side, trying to see what could possibly have caused the man to run away so fast. He was about to just shrug and continue his walk home when he felt hands slide up over his shoulders. He gulped, shoulders tensing, and dropped the food he was carrying, raising his hands in surrender to whoever was behind him.

He felt the hands press down harder, hot breath on the back of his neck, as though the person had to use his shoulders as leverage to reach his ear.

“So,” the person said in his ear, voice loud and high in the quiet of the night, “what you should have done, then, was eat that sandwich right in front of him.” And Nick’s shoulders fell, feeling like his center of gravity shifted, as though something finally anchored him to the ground.

“Or,” he said, voice hoarse, “I could have just given him the damn food, like a decent human being.”

“And why would you want to do that?” Louis said, a smile in his voice. Nick felt Louis’ hands dragging down from Nick’s shoulders to slide around Nick’s waist, pulling Nick back against him. Nick pressed his hands against the ones on his stomach, smiling wide and relieved.

“I’ll get back to you on that,” Nick said, before turning around and leaning in.


End file.
